


Drawn to You

by SkywardGeek



Series: Scientifically Explained Soulmates [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, M/M, Multi, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 02:15:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12595884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkywardGeek/pseuds/SkywardGeek
Summary: There’s a theory. And there is nothing quite so dangerous as an unproven theory. But this theory states that when the universe came into being, atoms that were created near each other spend the rest of time and space trying to get back to each other.One part broken, another part scared. You have the opportunity but you can't take the leap. You've taken the leap but now you don't know where you're falling.Tony hasn't ever had a soulmate. He's written. Or he used to. But when no one ever writes back, maybe it's the universe telling him it wasn't meant to be.But a Red haired friend is telling the universe to get on with it.





	Drawn to You

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a one shot. But people asked from sequels so I tried. Didn't like the sequel so it's back to being a oneshot :)

“Hold on, let me find a pen.”

Tony pinned the phone to his shoulder, it balanced precariously as he turned his desk upside down for a pen.

“Aha,” he declared in triumph, “so where am I meeting you?”

He could hear Pepper sigh down the phone, “At Garlands.”

Tony frowned, pen hovering over his right hand in lieu of anything else to write on, “Garlands? Do I know that one?”

He could almost hear Pepper’s eye roll down the phone, “It’s that coffee shop you like, the one with the strong espresso and the – and I am quoting you here – ‘most orgasmic red velvet cake’ you’ve ever had.”

“And I’m meeting you at ten-“

“Eleven,” Pepper corrected, voice of forced patience.

Tony scribbled over the ten and wrote eleven, just above where he’d written ‘orgasm cake’ in black ink.

“Are you writing on your hand again?” Pepper scolded, tone like a parent telling off a child.

Tony shrugged, almost dropping his phone in the process.

So what if he was? It was considered bad etiquette to write on one’s hands, as everything that was written would be mirrored on your supposed soulmate’s arm. People still wrote on their arms, their hands, anywhere really. It just wasn’t polite. But Tony had never seen anything scribed on his own arms that he himself hadn’t written. So, by age eighteen and completing his fourth degree, he’d decided to just get on with life. He might not have a soulmate, but he was the heir to a Fortune 500 and a FTSE top 100 company. That came with a whole other set of responsibilities. He was the youngest in college by far, hoping to finish his doctorate for this degree by the end of the year. Then he’d be shadowing and assisting his father in anything and everything Stark Industries related. So bigger things to worry about than hand etiquette.

“I didn’t have any paper,” Tony defended.

“Fine,” Pepper had heard it all from him before, “and get Rhodey to call me-“

“Uh-huh,” Tony agreed, adding that to his hand and doodling a star at the beginning and end of the sentence.

“-He hasn’t answered any of my texts and he’s on the committee, we need his input.”

Tony added ‘Pepper irritated’ to his hand, agreeing to get Rhodey to give her a call.

“And Tony,” Pepper paused to make sure he was listening, “wash your hands.”

“Will do, Pep,” he grinned down the phone, “and ciao, I got class in ten.”

 

“What do you suppose this means?” Steve asked.

“Well,” Bucky pondered as he turned Steve’s hand over, “I think it means if you do date your soulmate, you are going to have to be amazing in bed. Better than 11 orgasm cakes.”

That piqued Clint’s interest, “orgasm cakes? Can I have one?”

“You’d have to speak to Steve’s soulmate,” Bucky said, showing the handwriting on Steve’s hand.

“She’s got very pretty handwriting,” Clint commented idly, poking at a dry cafeteria lasagne.

Steve snatched his hand back from Bucky.

“He never writes his gal back,” Bucky shot Steve a disappointed look, “although eating pepper seems to have given her an irritation, so maybe make sure she gets checked out first.”

Natasha sashayed over, hips swinging. She dropped her tray with a dissatisfied clatter, bottle of water toppling. The apple bounced out of its section, rolling into her chilli.

“I think it’s a guy,” Natasha commented, biting the apple with sharp teeth.

“What makes you say that?”

Natasha smiled at Clint, “trust me. Definitely a guy.”

“Nah, Stevie’s not gay,” Bucky slapped Steve amiably on the back.

“Yeah, if he was, we’d have gotten together by now,” Clint stated, stretching his arms up with a yawn.

Natasha glanced at Steve, who shook his head minutely. She tilted her head slightly, silently questioning. Steve dropped his eyes to his plate.

“I must be mistaken then. If he doesn’t want to sleep with you, it must be the end times,” Natasha deadpanned, “How are you and Phil though?” Natasha asked, without missing a beat despite her swift and silent exchange with Steve, “still swapping notes in class?”

He must have missed her condescension because for the next ten minutes straight, Clint gushed about his new boyfriend and soulmate. Steve shot Natasha a grateful look for changing the topic.

 

Pepper gave him an air kiss on his cheek, jaw just brushing against his. She gestured to the chair opposite hers, sitting down and pushing a steaming cup of coffee towards him.

“Thought you’d be late.”

“I thought I’d die on the walk over here.”

“Hangover?” she asked, voice dropping in decibels.

“Working,” Tony corrected, readjusting his sunglasses.

He rubbed his temples before gulping down the coffee. The heat of it burnt his tongue, leaving searing trails down his throat, but the caffeine went a long way to making him feel like he was human again. He groaned obscenely. Heads turned. Pepper smiled behind the rim of her cup, taking a sip of hot chocolate. He opened his eyes, looking at the coffee like it was the only light in the world.

“Shall I leave you two alone?” Pepper smirked.

“Maybe it would be for the best, I think I’m going to end up in a ménage à trois with this coffee and that last slice of red velvet cake,” Tony grinned back.

“Better get moving then, I think that girl there- wait Tony, where are you going?”

Tony was up at the bar in seconds. He leaned casually against it, giving the red-head the once over.

“Hey gorgeous.”

“Cut to the chase, what do you want?” She looked at him with sharp eyes.

Tony smirked, “alright, no time for foreplay. I’ll give you twenty dollars to buy the chocolate cake.”

She regarded at him with a meaningful look. She stepped to the side with an entirely innocent smile, gesturing to the cake.

“This chocolate cake? But I did so want the red velvet cake.”

“Fifty dollars.”

“You really want this cake, huh?”

“I do, it is basically orgasmic.”

The red-head’s eyes widened a fraction, before she blinked and smiled.

“I’m sure it’s lovely. You can have the cake but…”

“But?” he prompted.

“Can I have your number, a coffee, and the time?”

Tony pulled at his phone, the screen lighting up, “Just gone eleven, rain check on the coffee, I’m here with a friend at the moment,” he gestured behind him to Pepper, “and,” he looked her up and down for a moment, openly checking her out, “sure, I’ll put it on your phone.”

She handed over her phone and watched as he typed the numbers in. He hit call, so he could get her number.

“Perfect, thanks.”

She left the queue, brushing her fingers across Tony’s shoulders. She turned back when she reached the door.

“Hey, red velvet? What’s your name?”

Tony’s eyebrows shot to his hairline; that was a first. He’d never not been recognised. It was actually rather refreshing.

“Tony.”

“Natasha.”

She waved goodbye and was out the door. Tony glanced across to Pepper. Shrugging, she delicately sipped her drink. With a puzzled look, Tony bought his cake and returned to his and Pepper’s table.

 

Natasha pushed a pile of papers away, clearing some space for her text books. Steve didn’t even glance up. He was preoccupied with bank statements surrounding him. He kept tapping at a calculator distractedly. Honestly, she knew she shouldn’t have done this. But… she wanted to make sure. Lightly, she began dragging her fingers up and down Steve’s forearm. She kept this going for a solid six minutes and twelve seconds. Steve hadn’t even looked up, only sighed and cleared the math off his calculator. She pulled out a sharpie and dragged it up and down his skin. She managed to doodle several lines before he realised.

“Stop! What are you doing?!”

“I was bored,” she shrugged.

Steve licked his finger and tried to rub off the marks. After realising he couldn’t remove the markings, he glared at Natasha.

“It’s just sharpie, it’ll come off in a week.”

Steve held his hand out, Natasha placing the sharpie on his palm. He began doodling across her work. He turned her lines into a star, and after picking up other colours, added rings of scarlet, dark blue, and electric blue polka dots. He then added tarnishing to the star, and barbed wires intertwining between the electric dots.

“Nice,” Natasha complimented when he was done.

She took his arm in her hands, turning it this way and that.

“Very nice.”

He snatched his arm back, riffling furiously through his paperwork.

“You’re mad,” she stated evenly.

“What do you think?” he snarled, “you’ve made me look like the rudest asshole in the world. I mean you just don’t understand, you don’t have a soulmate.”

“I do,” she said quietly, sad smile playing on her lips, “but they have another person as their soulmate.”

And slowly she pulled up her long sleeves. Steve couldn’t remember a time she’d worn short sleeves. But all up her arm were doodles of hearts, and quick love notes. Notes that Steve remembered Clint mentioning. Right at the crook of her elbow, there were two sentences, both scribed in tiny writing. One he recognised as Clint’s messy scrawl. That read _I miss you, please talk to us _.__  The other writing, written in precise print read _We’re sorry. Meet up with us. Please _.__

“Oh,” he said softly, “I’m sorry, Nat.”

“It’s fine,” she spoke with an empty tone, “They don’t know it’s me. I plan on keeping it that way.”

Steve nodded. He’d keep it quiet if that’s what she wanted, “did you ever write to them?”

“A few years ago.”

“Why did you stop?” Steve asked curiously, his tone gentle as he placed his hand on hers.

“They asked me to. There’s… they only had room for two.”

“Oh, Nat-“

“Please don’t say you’re sorry. I’m fine. Honestly. It was before I met them both, and they are perfect for each other. And it’s just… I wouldn’t fit in. I’m no good at romance.”

“That’s not true.”

She was honestly surprised that her eyes had misted over. She sniffed, blinking to clear her vision, “It doesn’t matter.”

She rose from Steve’s dining table, circling round to lean over him. He had bills and bank statements and every form of financial document out in front of him.

“I need a job,” he groaned, offering it as a change of subject.

Natasha took to the topic like a duck takes to water. She flicked through the documents with astounding speed.

“So you are making a loss of approximately fifty dollars a month, and you can’t find any way to save money.”

“Yep,” Steve rested his head on the table.

“I know a café that’s hiring. It’s just down the road. You could get a weekend job?”

“What café? Where?”

“Garlands,” Natasha said with a grin.

Steve knew that smile. He didn’t trust that smile. But he really needed a job.

 

Rhodey walked into his and Tony’s apartment. Tony was meant to be out at lectures, so the apartment was meant to be quiet. _Meant_ being the operative word. He could hear music through the walls. He opened the door, and immediately his hands shot to his ears, dropping his groceries in the process.

“Tony,” he screamed into the apartment.

He staggered to the stereo, the music so loud it felt like it was knocking him off balance. He turned off the music. The silence was so sudden it felt oppressive. There was a groan. Rhodey spun round, seeing Tony sitting and leaning against the breakfast bar. He was half hidden among bar stools, legs tangled in one of them. Rhodey crouched next to him. He felt his forehead. Tony hadn’t even acknowledged his presence. He listed sideways, only Rhodey’s steady hand keeping him from pitching entirely over. Tony didn’t have a temperature. Rhodey spared a glance for the rest of the apartment. Machine parts were everywhere. Wires were spilling from Tony’s pockets. He also had an oil streak behind his left ear. Rhodey sighed.

“Inventing binge?”

Tony closed his eyes, “m’head hurts.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“When I went to see Pepper.”

“Christ’s sake Tony, that was four days ago.”

Rhodey heaved Tony up, half carrying half dragging him to the couch. He returned to the front door and picked up his spilled groceries. He dumped them on the counter top, and filled up a glass with water. He pressed it into Tony’s hand and guided the glass to his mouth. Tony frowned.

“This isn’t coffee.”

Rhodey raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “don’t try me right now Tony. I’m going to cook something, you are going to eat it all.”

“Mmhmm,” Tony agreed, weaving where he sat.

Rhodey cooked fajitas, Tony ate everything placed in front of him, inhaling it. He managed to hold himself up easier after food.

“Thanks man, I needed that,” Tony leaned against Rhodey’s shoulder.

“You need sleep too,” Rhodey scolded, using his ‘don’t you dare argue or I will send in Pepper’ tone.

“Probably,” Tony agreed, scratching his arm.

Rhodey fell silent. Tony glanced at him, honestly expecting more yelling. But Rhodey’s eyes were fixed on his left arm. Tony looked down, only seeing his dark grey sweater, a few loose threads hanging past his fingers.

“What?”

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“Pull up your sleeve.”

Tony did, mouth dropping open as he revealed an arm full of colour.

“Did I get really drunk and get a tattoo?”

Rhodey shook his head, “would have been on the news.”

“Then what the hell is this?”

 

It became habit. He began doodling up his arm when bored. Quick sketches of things he’s been seeing, or things on his mind. He kept doodling around the sharpie. And he was bored a lot in this job. The café was tucked out of view, a hidden gem down a side street. The coffee was good and the cakes were baked fresh every day. Bucky, Clint, and Natasha visited often. Like right now in fact. Clint leaned on the bar, trying to peer at Steve’s hand.

“Any more notes from your mystery girl?”

Steve tucked his hand behind his back, keeping it out of view, “no, nothing.”

But that was a lie. He noticed the words being scrawled across his palm late last night. It was one, maybe two in the morning. Hesitant. And as neat as Steve had ever seen his soulmate write. _I know this is weird, but do I have a soulmate?_  Steve hadn’t written anything back. He couldn’t.

“I’m telling you, it’s a guy.”

“Whatever Natasha, Steve’s not gay,” Bucky protested.

“Yeah, I don’t think he’s gay,” Clint sided with Bucky.

Natasha smiled coldly at him, “have you ever asked him rather than making assumptions?”

“No but-“

“I’m not gay,” Steve confirmed, hating the looks of triumph on Clint’s and Bucky’s face, “but Natasha’s right. I’m not exactly straight.”

“Huh?” The guys chorused in confusion.

“Gender isn’t really a deciding factor for me.”

“Oh,” was all Bucky could say as he processed the information, “sorry for assuming Stevie.”

“S’alright Buck.”

“Then why haven’t you hit on me!” Clint would have sounded genuinely insulted had it not been for the shit-eating grin on his face.

“You have a boyfriend and he’s your soulmate,” Steve smiled.

Clint’s jovial expression faltered, “Yeah. Yeah he is,” he paused, tapping the counter idly, “can you have more than one soulmate?”

Bucky snorted, “of course. Ma had two. One was her best friend, one became her husband.”

“But what about as partners?”

“I don’t see why not,” Bucky chuckled, “Nat, what do you think?”

She shrugged, picking up her to-go vanilla latte, “I don’t think I’m qualified to answer. After all, I don’t have a soulmate.”

Steve shot her a look but she glared right back. Clint sagged down onto the counter. Bucky prodded his side, trying to get him to stand up straight. Clint swatted his hand away.

“I fucked up,” he groaned into his arms, “badly.”

Natasha sipped her coffee indifferently, moving to a table close to the bar. Bucky followed, dragging Clint with him. Steve moved round, feigning at wiping the next table over. It was quiet in the café so he could spare this. Clint looked up to glare at Steve.

“You have a soulmate and you don’t even let him know you exist,” Clint scowled, “you should treasure them. I didn’t and now she won’t speak to me or Phil anymore-”

“Wait,” Bucky interrupted, “she’s both your soulmates.”

“Yeah.”

The bell chimed, signaling the front door opening.

“Sorry, I’ll be right with you,” Steve called to the new customer.

He paused for a moment to take in the sight. The man walked with a confidence Steve could only dream of, his stride never faltering. His hair was styled immaculately, hand coming up to brush stray hair from his eyes. And what eyes they were. Rich like dark chocolate, sweet like caramel, but they burnt through him like a shot of scotch. His lashes fanned out under his eyes, skin darkened slightly by exhaustion. He smirked, like he owned the attention of the room and knew it.

“It’s Mister Red Velvet,” Natasha whispered to herself, standing up to join him at the counter.

The man didn’t look around until he felt her hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said with a look of recognition, “fancy running into you again.”

She smiled sweetly at him, “Can I buy you a coffee? What’ll you have?”

“I’ll get it, I still owe you a rain check for not getting the last slice of red velvet.”

“You mean your orgasm cake,” she quipped arching an eyebrow, “I doubt it is _that_ good.”

The man turned to Steve, slapping a hundred dollar bill on the counter, “Garçon, you’re finest coffee please. And two slices of your Red Velvet Cake, I need to prove it is an edible orgasm to this fine lady.”

Steve’s jaw dropped, “what did you say?”

“Coffee and Cake, please,” the man reiterated slowly, looking puzzled at the man.

“Please,” Natasha grinned at Steve, “I’ll take a cinnamon mocha.”

“And a macchiato.”

“Is there a name I can put on the cup?”

“Tony on the macchiato and Natasha on the mocha,” Tony grinned.

“I think Natasha just pulled,” Bucky commented, loud enough for the group at the bar to hear.

Both Steve and Clint frowned as Natasha and Tony walked to a table in the corner. They chatted like old friends, Tony breaking into raucous laughter every twenty minutes or so.

“I think we’ve been ditched,” Steve sighed as he passed, carrying over cups of coffee and cakes to Natasha and her friend.

 

Tony grinned as Natasha bit into the cake, “Well?” he demanded expectantly.

“No time for foreplay then?” she teased.

“Well, if that’s the way we’re playing this? I’m happy to grab a room,” he raised an eyebrow as he sipped his drink.

Natasha rubbed her ankle against his, playing footsie under the table. He tipped his head slightly to the left, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m enjoying my cake.”

“No, with your foot?”

“What does it seem like?” she said with a coy smile.

“I would say flirting,” Tony said thoughtfully.

“But?” she continued, hearing the hesitation in his voice.

“But I’m trying to figure out which of your three friends you are trying to make jealous.”

“Oh,” Natasha didn’t think she’d be rumbled so soon.

He was good. She’d never been found out this quickly. She drained what was left of her latte, reaching for her mocha. Tony slid his hand across the table capturing hers in his.

“I’m happy to play along,” he mused, sly smile on his face, “it’s of no consequence to me. So which one is your soulmate?”

“Huh?”

“I’m guessing either the brunet that hasn’t stopped staring at us,” Tony whispered conspiratorially, leaning forward without turning to look at her companions, “or the blond who is slumped on the table.”

Natasha giggled lowly, “I have two actually.”

“Both of them?”

“No,” she chuckled, “only one of them. The other is his boyfriend.”

Tony hummed thoughtfully, “Must be nice,” he sipped his coffee, “I don’t have a soulmate.”

“No?” she queried.

“No,” Tony shook his head, “I write on my hand a lot-“ he held up a hand to silence her- “I know, poor etiquette. Also, if I did have a soulmate, they might be mad about all the times I get drunk and get stupid tattoos.”

“Can you show me?”

Tony rolled back his sleeve, showing her barbed wire and a target with a star at the center, “looks cool doesn’t it. Wish I could remember the artist. Man, I must have been so hammered to not remember.”

“I know the artist,” Natasha smiled, “I’d recognise his work anywhere. I’ll give you his number if you play a little game with me.”

“I love games.”

 

After Steve’s shift they’d all gathered in his apartment. Thanks to Tony’s accidental tip of over eighty dollars, Steve could afford take-out. Chinese food was delivered. Noodles were slurped. There was chit chat.

“So,” Clint started, viciously spearing a piece of sweet and sour chicken, “who’s the new boyfriend?”

Natasha giggled shyly, tapping out a text to her new beau, “his name’s Tony, he’s an engineering student at MIT.”

“Is he your soulmate?”

“I don’t have a soulmate.”

Bucky looked at her curiously, “that’s not true.”

“What?” Natasha questioned sharply.

“I’ve seen writing on your wrist before.”

“My own writing,” she snapped.

“Not your handwriting,” Bucky shot back at her, “and you write with your left hand. It’s always on your left wrist.”

“Tony’s right handed,” Clint piped up with annoyance.

“Tony’s ambidextrous. But it’s not Tony,” She said calmly.

“But-“

“I said it’s not Tony,” her hands slammed down on the table of their own volition, knocking over a pot of hoisin, “I’m not wanted by those who share my soul, okay?”

She excused herself and slipped from the room, Steve followed after her. She had climbed out of the hallway window onto the fire escape. She was leaning over the rails, staring down at the quiet street below. Steve approached quietly, setting himself next to her and drumming on the railings.

“That’s rather obnoxious,” she stated, not taking her eyes off the street.

Steve stilled his fingers and waited. He knew she’d talk. Eventually. But it had to be her choice. She looked up at the sky, faintly orange from light pollution.

“Do you ever want to leave? Run away from the city and look up instead of back?”

“See the stars.”

“Yeah,” she smiled into the night, “sorry. I didn’t think it still bothered me. I thought I’d moved on.”

“Is that what you are doing with Tony?”

“Pfffft no,” she cackled, “God no. I’m just having a little fun.”

Steve laughed, “alright, just stay safe.”

She cuffed him around the back of his head, “not like that you dope. I’m just playing a little game.”

“What’s the game?”

She smiled privately, like her smirk was a weapon that she was keeping sheathed, “Truth and dare, I suppose.”

“Shouldn’t that be truth _or_ dare?”

She waved a hand dismissively, “semantics.”

They fell into silence, hearing the rumble of cars from the street below. Occasionally, they could heard people shouting, drunken raving, or the honk of cars as people unwittingly crossed their path.

“So Clint and Phil?”

She turned to look, eyes taking in every detail. She was so silent and so pensive for so long that Steve thought she might not be willing to answer. But eventually her shoulders dropped, her mouth twisting into a grimace.

“They have each other. They’re happy. That’s all they need and that’s all I need.”

“Nat?”

Steve and Natasha both spun round, Bucky staring agape at the pair. He pointed an accusing finger at Natasha.

“You need to tell him.”

“Buck-“

“Shut it Steve,” he growled, “Clint explained to me. He’s been tearing himself to pieces. He cried, Nat, and I am not equipped to deal with that shit. Talk to him, or I will. And we both know who he’d rather hear it from.”

He turned on his heel and stormed off. Steve flinched as the apartment door slammed. Natasha ran a hand through her hair.

“Time to face the music.”

They turned, climbed through the window and walked into the apartment.

 

 “I’m telling you, it’s a soulmate.”

“It’s a tattoo.”

“Soulmate.”

“Definitely a tattoo.”

“You’re one hell of a stubborn asshole.”

Tony scrubbed a hand down his face, smearing oil as he went, “face it Rhodey, I don’t have a soulmate. It just isn’t for me.”

“You aren’t _so_ special,” Rhodey pointed out with a teasing tone, “to get through life without one.”

“I’m not so special to have one either.”

“Tony-“

“Just- stop it Rhodey,” he cracked, voicing breaking, “I don’t have a soulmate so drop it.”

 

Clint was sat on the sofa. Bucky and Steve bracketed him. The former was glaring daggers at Natasha, the latter anxiously twiddling his thumbs. Every time Natasha opened her mouth, she seemed to think better of it. Finally she walked to the kitchen, grabbing a pen.

“Once you find out who my soulmate is, you can’t unlearn it. Are you sure you are all okay with that?”

Steve and Bucky nodded dutifully, Clint without any apprehension. Natasha clicked the pen.

“Okay so I’m going to write today’s date, Steve’s address, and ask them to meet me here ASAP. If they turn up, we’ll see how it goes.”

She showed them all her palm, the writing a stark contrast on her pale skin. They waited. And waited. And waited. Clint started pacing, hands thrust deep into his hoodie pockets. Natasha leant against the fridge, pushing a magnet up and down with a slender index finger. Steve and Bucky were both watching them, on the edge of their seats, hands on their knees.

“You two look ready to spring into action,” Clint commented, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky deliberately leaned back, arm coming to rest on the side of the couch. He tapped the sofa, a dull repetitive thudding. Steve stood up and walked over to Natasha. He placed a hand on her arm. She met his eyes and smiled steadfastly.

“He’ll come.”

Natasha nodded, but Clint frowned.

“Couldn’t it be a she?”

“We’ve spoken before. For a long time actually.”

“Did you stop?”

She glanced at the door for a moment, “we stopped.”

“Why?” Clint asked.

A knock at the door saved her from answering. Clint swept it open.

“Phil? What are you doing here?”

“You told me to come here,” Phil frowned, holding up his hand.

“What?” Clint laughed, “No I didn’t.”

So caught up in their confusion that Clint and Phil didn’t notice Natasha slip out. Bucky was busy watching Clint and Phil. The door shut with a soft click as Steve followed after her.

“Look, that’s your handwriting,” Phil insisted.

“But I didn’t write that,” Clint maintained.

“Oh God, you two are idiots,” Bucky exploded at them, “Clint you literally watched it happen.”

“Wait,” his eyes widened in surprise, “you mean-“

“What?” Phil glanced between the two.

Clint pulled his hands out his hoodie and stared in horror at his hands, “FUCK,” Clint shoved a dining chair, “FUCK! MOTHER FUCKER!”

Phil flinched when the chair slammed onto the floor, denting the laminate. He grabbed hold of Clint. Tucked against his chest, he looked over Clint’s shoulder at Bucky.

“What is going on?”

Clint shoved his hands at Phil, biting hard on his lip in an unsuccessful effort at stopping himself crying.

“We fucked up,” he choked out, “bad.”

“We found out Natasha’s soulmate.”

Phil’s eyes darted quickly between the two, “oh,” he quickly pieced things together, “Well?”

“Well what?” Clint asked, angrily trying to wipe away the tear tracks.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go find her and talk.”

 

Tony was toying with the idea of another cup of coffee. The manager had already let him stay late, thanks to a handsome bribe. He didn’t want to go home yet. He was sick of Rhodey’s incessant insisting and Pepper’s tiresome meddling. He was sick of hoping for a soulmate. He was sick of being realistic. He knew his friends’ nagging came from a good place. But he also felt it wasn’t their place. So here he was, sat at his favourite table in the orgasm cake shop, running his finger around the rim of a well-loved coffee cup. A half-eaten slice of red velvet was on his table. A tablet lay next to it, screen dark. Tony allowed himself to stare off into space, enjoying the quiet.

“Will you fuck off, Steve!”

So much for quiet. Tony shifted his gaze to the window, seeing his red-haired friend stalk past, tailed by big, blond, and bulky. He ran out the café, locking up swiftly behind him and chasing after them. He stood between the two, glaring at the taller man, who he now recognised as the barista who served him that day.

“She told you to leave her alone.”

“Tony?” Natasha’s hand was gentle on his shoulder, “I don’t need you to protect me.”

“Sorry,” Tony flashed her a bright grin, eyes knife-sharp on the blond, “just thought I should try and intervene before you hand this guy his ass.”

Steve groaned, “I’m just trying to convince her to speak to her soulmates.”

Tony turned to Nat, “Scowly McStarey or Dejected and Rejected?”

“Dejected and Rejected, and The College Suit.”

“Huh,” Tony mused, “the one you texted me about?”

“Yeah, Scowly outed me.”

“Oh,” Tony turned back to his barista with a sharp smirk, “she got rejected by her soulmate. I’m sure a guy like you can’t understand but that shit hurts.”

The barista took a step back at the passive aggressive poisonous tone spewing from Tony’s lips. A guy like him? He didn’t even know what that meant.

“Oh, and you think _you_ understand?” the coffee maker fired back at him.

Tony narrowed his eyes, assessing the coffee maker. Natasha had said Scowly was called James. D & R was called Clint. The College Suit was… something Coulson. But this guy? Couldn’t for the life of him remember if Natasha had mentioned him. They were clearly friends. And this guy, with his righteous indignation.

“More than you.”

“How do you reckon?” the barista challenged.

“Because she was rejected by people. I was rejected by the universe. She doesn’t get a soulmate and neither do I-”

“Tony-“

“-and a guy like you probably met his soulmate at age ten and got married the moment you could.”

“-A guy like me?”

“-Steve!”

“Yeah, a guy like you,” he grit out, “a guy who never felt out of place.”

“-TONY!”

 “You don’t know a thing about me. You want to talk about out of place. My entire life is a dichotomy. I am an art student only scraping by thanks to a sports scholarship. I am as clueless as everyone else but people seem to think I have answers. I try to do what’s right but keep fucking up. I have never even spoken to my soulmate because my friends didn’t think my sexuality existed so why would my soulmate? I act brave, like I’m doing the right thing, but really? I am just as scared as she is,” he gestured wildly at Natasha, “so I know what it’s like.”

Tony strode forward and slapped Steve hard. The sound cracked like a whip across the silent street, Steve’s head jerking around.

“You,” Tony snarled, loathing painted in every feature, “are a coward. You know you have one, you know you do, which means they have written. They probably tried to speak to you. And you left them wondering. Wondering if there was something wrong with them, or the universe, or if this is some cruel joke. You left them wondering if they are broken in some way. So fuck you!”

Steve loomed over him, drawing himself to his full height. Natasha tugged Tony behind her, the men trying to stare each other down.

“Tony, you aren’t broken,” Natasha assured, resting a hand on his bicep, and pushing against Steve’s chest to separate them, “let’s just… cool down. This was meant to be between me and Steve,” she chided gently.

Tony looked put out but followed her back towards the café. He opened the door. A lonely half-drunk coffee sat on the table, red cake crumbs scattered across the table top. Tony began switching on the coffee machines. After a few minutes of complete silence, nothing beyond the sound of boiling water and the grinding of coffee beans, Tony set down two black coffees, one latte, a small jug of milk, and a pot of sugar. The sound of porcelain on porcelain as Natasha took a sip before placing the cup back on its saucer.

“So what is your sexuality?” Tony asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“I don’t think it’s any of your-“

“He doesn’t think gender factors into whether he’s attracted to someone,” Natasha cut in.

“Oh, pansexual,” Tony nodded knowingly.

Steve set his cup down with a clatter, coffee slopping over the edge. Tony gave the wasted coffee a look of disdain.

“I didn’t know there was a name for it.”

“Yuh-huh,” Tony replied, bored tone as he reached for his abandoned tablet, “sometimes called omnisexual, from the Latin ‘omnis’ meaning ‘all’. Pansexual is derived from the Greek prefix ‘Pan,’ also meaning ‘all’.”

“Yes, thank you for the vocabulary lesson,” Steve said dryly.

Tony shrugged, “okay, that was obnoxious. Sorry. But it’s a real thing. Don’t let your friends tell you differently.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. Tony sipped his coffee obliviously, tapping at his tablet. Natasha sat awkwardly between them, clasping her latte with both hands. The bell of the front door rang suddenly, all three heads turning.

“Sorry, we’re closed-“

 

Everyone, in various states of getting up, stopped and stared. Clint, chest heaving, sweat glistening on his brow. Phil was at his side, hair in disarray and suit jacket over one arm. Clint approached Natasha, at her side in the time it took to blink. Phil was with took her left hand and Clint held her right.

“Please,” his voice cracked and he looked down, blinking furiously, “please can we talk about this?”

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and nodded.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know a person could have more than one soulmate. I thought it was some cruel trick. I had already met Phil and he was just so much more real to me. But I still wasn’t- I didn’t feel right.”

“Something was missing. We were missing you-“

“What about you?” Tony interrupted, a look of disgust on his face, “the idiot here thought the universe was playing a trick on him. What about you? Why didn’t you fight for her?”

Clint stuttered and stumbled but Phil nodded, “honestly, I was scared. I had something so good and I didn’t think I could have more. I didn’t… I wasn’t confident enough in my relationship with Clint to risk losing him for someone I didn’t even know. I didn’t realise that not only did I know her without ever meeting her, but that both myself and Clint were in love with her.”

“You told me to stop writing to you.”

“And we were wrong. No apology will make it right but please let us show you how sorry we are and how much you mean to us.”

She tugged her hands from Clint’s and Phil’s so that she could drain her cup, setting it delicately back on its saucer. She rose from her seat with lithe grace, taking the cup to the bar. She pressed both hands to the bar, looking down at the marble effect counter. She sighed. Closed her eyes. Let her head drop, chin touching her chest.

“Why?”

“Because we love you,” the both said in sync, not a beat missed nor a pause in their words.

“Thank you,” she looked up, taking a moment to meet both of their eyes, “but love is for children.”

A look of realisation dawned on both of them, “you owe us nothing,” Phil insisted.

Clint grinned wide, “We’ll call it even,” he extended a hand across the bar.

Natasha shook it once before they both dropped their hands to their sides. She offered her hand to Phil, the man accepting it gracefully.

“What just happened?” Tony asked, turning to Steve.

The blond shrugged and took a gulp of now lukewarm coffee, “no idea.”

 

It had been two months since the coffee shop. Steve was staring at his arm, finally scrubbed clean of sharpie and pen. A completely blank canvas. He was twiddling a pen between his fingers, tapping the end of it against his left wrist. In the end he couldn’t. He set the pen down and flicked on the TV. Natasha, Clint, and Phil burst through the door, Bucky and Tony trailing in after them. Tony had become part of the group pretty quickly after the event of the coffee shop, Natasha dragging him wherever she went. Though currently Bucky had an arm wrapped around Tony’s waist, basically holding him up.

“Is he okay?” Steve asked.

“Rhodey told him to go socialise,” Bucky readjusted his grip, ignoring Tony’s unintelligible grumbles, “kicked him out the apartment. Don’t think he realised Tony hasn’t slept in three days.”

“Not three,” Tony groaned, trying to push away from Bucky. Bucky tightened his hold since Tony couldn’t find his footing, “it’s only been 70 hours.”

The group as a collective rolled their eyes, Bucky hoisting Tony up and dumping him on the couch next to Steve. He dragged himself up, sitting tensed next to Steve. Everyone chatted quietly, the TV a pleasant buzz in the background. Slowly Tony sagged down, eyes drifting closed before he forced them back open, either out of stubbornness or habit, no one could be sure.

“Tony,” Natasha piped up, “don’t forget we agreed to meet tomorrow.”

“Uhhn,” Tony made a vaguely agreeing noise, stretching across Steve for the pen on the side table next to him.

Oblivious to how close he was leaning, Tony pressed himself against Steve, and hand on his thigh for balance. Steve blushed faintly, as Tony slipped, hand accidentally brushing his inner thigh. Steve knew he found Tony attractive when he first saw him, thought he was an asshole when he had a proper conversation – though it can hardly be called proper – and now? He knew the guy. A man who was loyal to his friends and fought desperately to protect them, who worked so hard to keep up despite being so far ahead, a man so immovable that he changed the world to suit him. So Steve was somewhere between I want to punch you and I want to kiss you – he was still trying to figure that out. Tony grappled for the pen. Finally he managed to fumble with it, neatly scrawling across his hand.

“You guys meet up? What for?” Clint asked.

“Just a catch up, chat about life, sometimes see a movie.”

“So you date each other?” Bucky cut in with a grin.

“No, we aren’t dating,” Natasha leaned forward for the TV remote, flicking the channel over to some cartoons.

“Not dating,” Tony half-slurred, entire body leaning against Steve’s side, seemingly unable to hold himself up in his exhaustion, “she’s not my type.”

“Rather rude, isn’t it?” Steve reproved.

Tony shrugged loosely, head coming to rest on Steve’s shoulder, “she knows what I mean.”

Within the time it took to breathe, Tony was fast asleep. His breathing was deep and even, hand twitching slightly against Steve’s loose sweatpants. He was still so tense, even in sleep. Carefully rearranging him, Steve lay him down, feet over the edge of the couch and head in Steve’s lap. Absently, he combed his fingers through strands of hair that were such a dark shade of brown they were almost black.

“What’s he mean?” Bucky turned to Natasha expectantly.

She pondered for a moment, “I don’t think he’d mind me saying,” she paused for a moment longer, curling a strand of her hair around her finger, “he’s gay.”

“Oh,” Bucky raised his eyebrows in surprise, “fair enough. He’s only ever been photographed with girls though.”

“Huh?” Clint replied eloquently.

“At his mom’s galas and stuff, he’s only ever seen with girls.”

“Yeah, usually Janet Van Dyne,” Natasha added.

“He’s Tony Stark?!” he pointed at the sleeping boy on the couch.

 Steve covered the boy’s ears protectively, blocking out the shouting. He ran his other hand through Tony’s hair again. Tony snuffled in his sleep, the action finally getting him to relax. It was like he melted against Steve.

“Yeah, he’s Tony Stark, where have you been?”

“And no one told me!”

“We thought you knew,” Phil frowned at him.

Clint observed Natasha for a moment, “did you purposely not make a fuss of him when you first met him?”

“I wouldn’t have anyway,” she replied simply, “but I didn’t make a fuss after he ordered in Garlands that first time.”

“Why? What did he order?” Phil asked, head tilting to the side.

“Red velvet cake.”

Steve grinned, “Didn’t he call it orgasm cake?”

Natasha gave him a sly grin, “he did.”

Clint and Bucky both whipped round to look at Steve, Clint with a massive grin on his face. Natasha pinched his leg, leading to and outraged yelp of pain. Bucky met Natasha’s unrelenting gaze, shifting uncomfortably under it. He crossed his legs to protect his vital assets, then tapped a finger to his lips. Her lips quirked up slightly. Steve hadn’t noticed any of their interactions. He was smiling fondly down at Tony.

 

Tony awoke to a mostly empty room. And sort of dark. He must have been asleep for a while. There was a rumbling above him, Tony turning to see Steve’s head tipped back against the back of the couch, snoring loudly. He carefully picked himself up, and grabbed his bag, swinging it onto his shoulder. He scribbled a quick note on the back of a receipt, before leaving. How was he still so tired? He kept the pen, tucking it behind his ear as he walked down the corridor. Once he was outside, he leaned against the door in the early evening air.

“I’m done,” he muttered as he wrote, “I don’t know if you exist but I’m tired of hoping. I can’t do this anymore.”

He capped the pen and kept walking.

 

Steve woke with a jolt at midnight. He wasn’t sure why but he looked at his hands. On one hand there were instructions to meet at a nearby cinema. On the other hand it seemed like his soulmate was saying goodbye. He knew what he had to do. Now what films are out right now?

 

Tony was waiting outside the cinema, scanning the passing pedestrians for a flash of red-hair. Instead he spotted a familiar shock of blond.

“Steve what are you doing here?” he asked puzzled.

Steve rubbed the back of his head, looking embarrassed, “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. It worked for Natasha and I’ve seen how it affected you, and I don’t want to leave my soulmate thinking that they are alone. They asked to meet here at three.”

Tony smiled, “about damn time, excited?”

“And nervous.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“They said they couldn’t do this anymore. And I realised I haven’t given us a chance to do anything.”

Tony’s brow furrowed, “when did you see this message?”

Steve shrugged, “after I woke up, midnight-ish.”

Tony stepped away. His entire body was angled as far away from Steve as he could.

“And they asked you to meet here, at 3pm? Where was it written on you?”

“Left palm.”

“May I see?” Tony reached for Steve’s hand with his right, carefully keeping his left tucked behind him.

Steve offered his palm. Tony studied it for a moment, tracing the handwriting with a finger. After thirty seconds he threw Steve’s hand back at him. His smile was cold and cruel.

“Is this a game to you?”

“What? No!” Steve cried out defensively, “what is your problem?”

Tony narrowed his eyes, taking another step back, “as it turns out, you are.”

“Tony,” Natasha called from across the street, waving with a hand cupped around her mouth.

He spun on his heel and stalked off, leaving Steve confused on the sidewalk and Natasha chasing after him. Once she caught up, Tony stopped his furious pace.

“Did you know?” he asked, tone devoid of emotions.

“I had my suspicions.”

“So this was your game?”

“It was a game of truth and dare. Steve dared to meet his soulmate. You know the truth. What are you going to do with it?”

“Nothing,” he spat out, “just like he did.”

“Tony,” she pleaded, “please speak to him.”

He spun on his heel and stalked back in the direction of the cinema. Steve was still outside, looking confused and faintly scared.

“Do you have a pen?” he demanded of the pair.

Natasha swiftly handed one over. He scribbled words on the palm of his right hand and held it out for Steve to read.

“I hate you,” Steve read out, hurt flashing across his face before being covered by anger, “what the fuck?”

“Look at your fucking hand, asshole.”

Steve looked at his right palm, “shit. Tony, I’m-”

Tony’s face crumpled a little, the man looking smaller than ever, “I thought I was broken because of you,” he straightened up, taking a deep breath, “you have-“ his voice cracked, he coughed to try and stop being near tears, “you have no idea.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve was openly crying now, “I’m so sorry.”

He embraced Tony in a hug, the man standing stiffly against him.

“I hate you.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Natasha clapped her hands awkwardly, “I think I should leave you alone.”

 

Halfway back to her apartment she bumped into Bucky coming out of a shop.

“Will you stop playing with them now?”

“I didn’t do a thing,” she smiled innocently.

“Yes you did, you knew as soon as he said Orgasm Cake in Garlands. You could have saved both of them a lot of pain.”

“I didn’t _know_ , I thought it was a possibility.”

“Did it all go according to your plan?” he asked curiously.

“I didn’t think Tony would realise so quickly. I actually thought Steve had realised the first time Tony ordered orgasm cake from him. There was definitely recognition there.”

“They’re both idiots,” Bucky groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, “do you think they’ll get together?”

“I honestly have no idea.”


End file.
